


Tony Stark May Be Terrible at Gift-Giving

by soniclipstick (veriscence)



Series: tumblr [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, puppies!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1526582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veriscence/pseuds/soniclipstick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But you didn’t hear him say that out loud. “Mute, JARVIS.”  </p><p>tumblr prompt by callipigyangoldfish:  One of them drunk purchasing something they really don’t need but feel they have to keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tony Stark May Be Terrible at Gift-Giving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CallipygianGoldfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallipygianGoldfish/gifts).



“Are you kidding me?”  


“What?” Tony looks up from his work bench to find Steve leaning against the doorway to the workshop, absentmindedly patting DUM-E on the head. That traitor. 10 years of feeding him the best motor oil money can buy, then Captain America walks in and loyalty is no longer part of the damn dictionary. Tony looks back down to the gauntlet he’s working on at the moment, not ready to face Steve just yet. And in all honesty, Tony can’t possibly be blamed for not having any idea whatsoever what Steve is talking about, considering he hasn’t seen the man in four days, not since they had their first fight which- _nope_ , he is not going to think about that.  


“The puppies, Tony.”  


“What about puppies?” Please please _please_ not let there be a villain who messed with puppies because Steve adores puppies and wait. Oh damn.  


“Tony. Please tell me you didn’t have someone deliver 10 puppies and forget all about it.”  


Well, he may have. He may definitely have done that after getting spectacularly drunk after you-know-what happened a couple of days ago. It was his go-to play anyway, piss off people you love -nope- care about, then give them extravagant gifts (see: Rhodey and War Machine, Pepper and the freakishly giant rabbit, which didn’t deserve to be blown up, because he bought the same thing for the Hulk, and the Hulk loves it). But Steve loves puppies. So Tony doesn’t see what the problem is.  


“Well, you like puppies, so I thought-“  


“You thought instead of having an adult conversation with me, you would get me puppies and everything would be okay.”  


“Well, yeah.” It’s worked so far in his life. But then again, Steve has always been a wild card, a random variable that he has never been capable of predicting, no matter what algorithm he uses.  


Steve doesn’t say anything so Tony decides to continue working on the broken gauntlet. Reaching past new prototypes for acidic arrows, he turns away from Steve to grab a wrench from the worktable beside him.  


Tony hears footsteps until they stop right behind him, and Steve sits down on the workbench beside him, familiar warmth radiating towards him as the man straddles the bench, facing Tony. “Tony,” Steve says his name softly, a hand on his back. It’s soothing, but Tony doesn’t want to hear it. Doesn’t want to hear Steve tell him that maybe he was wrong, maybe they’re not worth fighting for. More than ever, Tony wishes he could put on his armour and hide the hurt look on his face.  


Unfortunately, he can’t, thanks to that bastard Magneto, and yeah- he really needs to build a suit out of something non-metal, like plastic or something. Steve uses his other hand to cup his face and turn it until they’re facing each other.  


“Tony, please don’t shut me out. If we want this to work, we have to communicate with each other,” and he looks so earnest and vulnerable that Tony is floored, no quite understanding the words coming out of Steve’s mouth right now.  


“Wait, you’re not breaking up with me?” Tony asks, voice a bare whisper.  


Steve gasps and pulls him closer. “No! Tony of course not! We had one argument. We’re going to have many, but as long as we promise to communicate with each other, it’ll all work out.”  


Tony sighs and rests his head on Steve’s sternum, breathing in the now-familiar smell of gunpowder and vibranium. Right, talking. He’s shit at it, ask Pepper, but for Steve, he’ll damn well try.  


***  


“I guess we should send the puppies back,” Tony notes later in bed, absentmindedly ghosting fingers in intricate patterns on Steve’s bare chest.  


“What, no! We’re keeping them. You got them from a shelter! And they’re so tiny, they would die, Tony.”  


“Well, we do have the space,” He can do puppies, what the hell. Even ten of them.  


“And Clint may have started naming them already.”  


Well _shit_. There’s no escaping it now. It’s alright, Tony thinks, throwing a leg over Steve’s. It’ll work out. Long as they both fight for it, it’ll all be ok.

**Author's Note:**

> Indeed, I have ventured from the hidden caves of C/C fics to write my first Stony fic! Hope you liked it, thank you so much reading. 
> 
> I am soniclipstick on tumblr and always open for prompts.


End file.
